Mortal Men
by Ollen70
Summary: When the heroes of Hylia struggled during Ganondorf's coming, the sages of Hyrule begin their ascent. Set during the imprisoning war in the Link to the Past time frame.


  
Ollen70: If you've ever played through A Link to the Past, you've probably watched the opening scene where the history of the imprisoning war is explained. There's one particular picture of the seven wise men standing on the mountain, and that was more or less the inspiration for this story. Hope you like it.  
  
Disclaimer: The personification, appearance, and the names of the characters in this story are original, but the overall premise of The Legend of Zelda does not belong to me. No money is being made from this.  
  
Mortal Men  
  
  
  
For once, the dawn was golden. Tightening his grip on the metal staff he carried, Sargis tilted his head and smiled into the light. It seemed the dawn was always red anymore, though the truth of the matter was that the sky had become untrustworthy only since the second coming of the dark one two months ago. Every morning the light that filtered into the cloister of his sanctuary was red, hinting at the blood that ran freely from the soldiers who even now were fighting and dying on the western spur of death mountain.  
  
No one expected such horrible power to exist in the men who followed under the black banners of Ganondorf, the thief king. No one expected them to brandish weapons forged from metals that poisoned their victims and drove their wielder mad. No one thought for a moment that the rumors of the forgotten golden land' were anything more than a fairy tale told by old men who enjoyed their ale too much. Even Sargis himself, a very learned man, never would have dared to assume such power lay within reach of mortals.  
  
And yet, as fate or fortune might have it, he now climbed strenuously - something he was far too old for - to attempt the impossible. He and the other six, the last who remembered any old lore at all, were to cast a magical working the likes of which the world had never before seen. They planned to defy the might of the one who held the triforce of power and seal the gateway into the now-corrupt sacred realm.  
  
  
Sargis knew, as did the others, that what they attempted now was nothing short of suicide. Their approach up the eastern slopes of the mountain was certain to be watched closely by the minions of the man who called himself the evil king. Oddly, none of this concerned him. They would do only what they could for the good of mankind - nothing more. If this task claimed one, or even all seven of their lives and all of those in their vanguard or on the field below them, then it was certainly no higher price than the lives that were sure to be lost if Ganondorf achieved his aims. If all that waited for them after this were the cool tombs, or even less than that... If Ganondorf was successful, none of them would be allotted the dignity of a burial. Instead they would be left where they fell, only cared for by the crows.   
  
The armies were still engaged below, though Sargis doubted if it would be long before the strength of Hyrule began to flag. The five armies of the nations were simply not enough to overcome wave after wave of darkened soldiers that spilled from the mountain to break like water on the walls of the castle or to flow with reckless abandon toward the village of Kakariko nestled into the foothills toward the east.   
  
The kings of the western domains had sent as many of their forces across the desert as they could spare to meet this great evil, and for a time the red, blue, green, golden and violet banners had bloomed impressively on the field, guarding all sides of the fortress of Hyrule. The Zora and Gorons especially met with great relief from the embattled Hylian knights, given their advantages in the waterways and the rocks respectively if combat were to head in those directions, but if something wasn't done soon, they would be so far outnumbered that any kind of redemption would be impossible.  
  
  
  
Higher they went, mounting the ridge to the summit of the mountain. Once they were there, it would be possible to complete their spell and block the power of the king from the openings that allowed it to flow free. The black king had not yet left his fastness in the once-golden land, but that too was only a matter of time. If he managed to cross into the world of light, there would be nothing anyone could do. The seal must be cast soon.  
  
Sargis left off all musings and focused only on the sound of the stones beneath his feet. His breath came with more difficulty now, and he was reminded all too clearly of his limitations. He was old. Even in his youth he had never been of an adventurous nature; his interests lay in knowledge rather than physical strength, but today that knowledge might do what no matter of youth or strength ever could. His mind, and the minds of the others, were worth tens of thousands of swords - they alone would be the saving grace of the armies, though it was likely their sacrifice would not be remembered.  
  
Looking down again on the field of battle, Sargis realized that he felt these things without bitterness or malice. In truth, in his breast there was the first stirring of deep pride. He would die so that others - thousands of others - could live and learn. If they never achieved even a fraction of the knowledge he had been granted in his long and full lifetime, at least they would be allowed the joys of growing old and passing away while the great world flowered under the heavens. Laughter and life and hope would never have permanent residence on this earth, but at least they would not be driven away forever.  
  
  
  
The cries of the vanguard caused him to wrench his eyes from the valleys below him. All attention now focused again on the path, he learned with a sense of dread what it was that had caused the alarm.  
  
In the midst of the path stood twelve warriors. Unlike those in their vanguard, these could not by any stretch of the mind be called men. Their bodies, perhaps human once, had been so twisted and deformed that there was nothing Sargis could think of to compare them to. Horns and fangs and scales grew from their heads and faces, their hands gripping tridents, swords, spears, axes, and all manner of weaponry. Lodging a silent prayer, Sargis wrapped his hands even more firmly around his metal crosier, determined to sell his life dearly. The men in their vanguard were outmatched in terms of size and strength, along with the burdens of fatigue that wore on them from days of battle and nights without rest.  
  
The warriors were silent, but their sickening smiles spoke all too clearly as the battle began between the two sides. In moments nine opponents stood, menacing the remaining five Hyrulian guards.   
  
Presence of faith! One of the elderly men to Sargis's right lifted his crosier high, his left hand appealing to the sky above. Protect thine own, deliver judgment derived through thine eternal wisdom! The bright glow that leapt from the palm of his hand engulfed the horrible warrior approaching them, leaving nothing after it dissipated.   
  
Two of the other sages kept their crosiers bisected in the air before them, holding them in opposite hands while their unladen palms met. Their magical working rid the earth of four of the remaining warriors in a gathering of light and snow. It was a very complicated spell, and in spite of the danger still around them, Sargis was impressed. Few could harness the strength and discipline necessary to call upon a spell like the Feather Omega. Though he had not met many of the sages around him, he felt safer now. These were men like him, frail only in appearance. It occurred to him that the king of Hyrule wouldn't have summoned them if their strength were not at least as great - if not greater - than Sargis's.   
  
He felt almost foolish for this revelation, shouldering his own staff and thus introducing his own magic to the fray. Mingling with the spells of the others around him, his magic was enough to remove all traces of their enemies from the stones of the mountain. The remaining Hyrulian guards, most of whom were relatively uninjured, took up their weapons and redoubled the pace, not looking down at their dead companions. Daring a backward glance, Sargis allowed his own sorrow to be put aside. Sadness would have to wait for a safer opportunity to manifest itself. He noted caustically that it might have a long wait indeed.  
  
The dangers they faced as they climbed higher up the slopes of the mountain were not all in the form of warriors. Overhanging crags, made mostly of shale and other treacherous stone, gave way easily from the unnatural force of the wind and tumbled down the cliff-sides, gathering force and breaking more rocks free as they came. It was fortunate that, as mages, each of them could exert a certain amount of control over the landscape and their surroundings, and a tall, broad-shouldered man with a great deal of white hair and a flowing beard of the same snowy composition had only to lift his staff when the first of the rocks came their way, causing them to clatter out and around the travelers harmlessly.   
  
The use of magic was not an easy thing - it required great concentration and an even greater commitment to ensure that the spells called upon were cast correctly. Sargis saw the taller man sag just slightly and quickly rushed to his side, catching him under the arm. His sky blue cloak and hood still vibrant even after the cascading dust had cleared, the man favored Sargis with a weak smile.   
  
What have we gotten ourselves into, eh? The brief chuckle was enough to prompt Sargis to smile as well. Why not, he asked himself when the perversity of laughing at a time like this came to him. The only alternative was to despair, and they had all come much too far for that.  
  
Too late to question that now, me thinks. A short man with a wide face and a hooded cloak of embroidered brown drew alongside them, helping Sargis bear the man's weight. Too late for a great many things, it seems.  
  
Other than that, very little was said. Sargis and the short man made light, inconsequential conversation at first to distract the other sage from his fatigue, but it faded after a while, none of them determined enough to attempt to start it again. There were other things to think about just now.  
  
  
  
Three other parties of warriors waited for the sages and their remaining knights further up the slopes of death mountain. The first was obviously not expecting them, perhaps having some other goal on the mountain than to set upon the seven old men. None of the creatures even had time to raise a shield before seven spells erased them from existence. Sargis wondered with a sinking feeling if it had been their outpouring of magic when they'd spotted the enemies in the road that brought the other parties to them.   
  
Hunched on the summit, Sargis shivered weakly. Maybe the gold spreading over the horizon was a sign. Perhaps heaven might show them favor after all, but he knew better than to hope for that. The blue-cloaked man knelt beside him, his eyes offering kind sympathy. Though he knew the severity of his situation, Sargis appreciated it.   
  
The final party to intercept them had been composed of archers. Stabilizing the shaft buried deep in his side, Sargis smiled at the armored youth that crouched near them. This knight was the very last of their vanguard, the only hero to have escaped the fate of death that had claimed his companions. In some ways, Sargis felt sorrier for him than the others. Death, while usually feared, was a source of peace nonetheless. The dead heroes were no longer concerned with the trying affairs of mortals any longer, remaining forever as golden warriors of faith in the eyes of other men.   
  
  
  
Stanching the blood flow as best he could, Sargis let himself think of his niece. A bright young girl, she was often in his sanctuary borrowing books or scrolls, never content with the role of homemaker or milk-maid. He let himself chuckle at her memory. His sister was often distressed by the girl, but Sargis loved her and took every opportunity to help her read the heavy Hylian texts or work on her calligraphy. Aside from all of that, he hoped that someday she would meet a man and have a child. She was too gentle and kind to go through life without children to benefit from her.  
  
With another quiet shiver, he allowed himself to accept the fact that she might not be alive any longer. The black armies had separated his village and the forces of Hyrule some days after his departure. Two days ago, when he'd begun this journey, no word had come yet as to the fate of his home. How strange that so many who were good would die on this world, their particular beauties unnoticed and unsung.   
  
  
While the other six sages took their places on the summit, Sargis found his crosier and kept it upraised, though he himself did not try to stand.   
  
It'll be okay, lad. Everything'll be alright. Sparing another sincere smile to help alleviate the apprehension in the knight's eyes, Sargis turned back to the others. They were positioned in a line of seven, each with their eyes closed in concentration, their voices mixed in chant. Without stopping to ponder further, Sargis joined them.   
  
I hope so, grandfather. The boy spoke it so softly that Sargis only barely registered it before the waves of magic started to form. Hope? Yes, he supposed hope was appropriate now. After all, it had brought them this far.  
  
  
  
  
Ollen70: I think I might re-work the ending of this at a later date. It seems a little... abrupt? I don't know...   
  
Anyway, let me know what you think, okay? Thanks for reading.


End file.
